[Intro – low piano, soft breathing pads, distant metallic echoes]
[Intro]
The sky bends low over trembling spines,
A quiet decree in the changing signs.
We kneel beneath a silent throne,
Bound by laws we’ve never known.
The puppets dance; the puppets sway.
We fall in line the ancient way.
Comfort tastes like sweetest wine—
A velvet cage we call divine.
⸻
[Story Verse — whispered falsetto, unsettling ambience]
In this new world order built on grace,
Masks replace the human face.
We trade our voices for a lie,
And call it safety, not goodbye.
They pull the strings; we turn and bow,
We’ve learned submission far too well now.
It’s easier to walk the line
Than question if the line is mine.
⸻
[Rising Passage — deep toms rumbling, glitchy textures]
Somewhere inside, the fracture glows,
A secret only courage knows.
We feel it burn, we feel it plead,
But fear becomes the air we breathe.
And though the chains are feather-light,
We wear them daily out of spite—
For freedom cuts, and freedom scars,
And comfort hides the cost in stars.
⸻
[Climax — huge drums, layered cleans with harsh undercurrent]
So pull the strings again,
I’ll follow them like every man.
We march because we’re terrified
Of worlds where no one holds the guide.
And maybe we could break away,
But dread keeps dawn at bay.
We cling to dark familiar things,
Too scared to face the pain of wings.
⸻
[Bridge — ritualistic whispers, building tension]
Afraid to rise,
Afraid to see,
Afraid of what we’d be set free.
The veil is thin,
The truth is near—
But comfort speaks louder than fear.
[Outro – HEAVY, SCREAMING, crushing guitars]
[Screamed]
Tear down the throne—
LET IT CRUMBLE TO DUST!
Break every chain
’Til they drown in the rust!
[Screamed, layered]
If freedom burns—
THEN LET IT BURN THROUGH ME!
If comfort kills—
THEN LET ME BLEED TO BE FREE!
[Clean + scream harmony]
No more strings…
No more “stay.”
No more living in the sculptor’s clay.
[Final scream, huge drop]
I’ll rip the hands
THAT HOLD MY FATE—
I WON’T DIE AFRAID TO BREAK.
Atlantica
